As I write this, the great Tim Russert has been gone for less than twelve hours. What I remember about him is that he prepared incessantly in order to get things right. This blog entry didn’t start out as a salute to his journalistic greatness, but trust that Russert’s legacy is germane here.
I think about getting things right quite a lot. Nothing is worse than having someone call you on facts that you haven’t gotten straight. Talk about having to have toast with the egg on your face! I thought about this last week when Barack and Michelle Obama gave each other dap minutes before Barack’s victory speech as the Democratic presumptive presidential candidate. This little love tap resulted in a myriad of dominant culture columnists trying to explain what the hell it was, from Reuters calling it a “celebratory fist-bump” to some unenlightened commenter on the Human Events web site erroneously labeling it “Hezbollah style fist-jabbing.” Again, illustrating that people can write with such brio and conviction about things of which they know or understand nothing, neglecting to get things right. Slate reporter Christopher Beam had to break it down for them here.
Then this week, my girl and former Book Squad co-host Karyn Langhorne called me up and said something like, “Hey, I’m writing this Op-Ed piece in The Washington Post about Loving Day.” Thankfully, she couldn’t see my blank expression over the phone. I say thankfully, because I, Wendy Coakley-Thompson, survivor of an aggressively unsuccessful interracial relationship… author of fiction in which the protagonists have interracial and multicultural relationships… author of a dissertation exploring the lives of biracial offspring, had no clue of what Loving Day was.
I had no excuse. I wrote about the Loving V. Virginia decision in my dissertation. Here are the Cliff Notes: On June 12, 1967, the Supreme Court struck down anti-miscegenation laws that had prohibited people from marrying across racial lines. Today, interracial couples and their children celebrate June 12 as Loving Day. There are parties and commemorations, like the Mixed Roots Film and Literary Festival jumping off this weekend in Los Angeles.
Karyn’s Washington Post piece is fabulous. Click here to read it.
I write this missive to say that, even though it took me some time to discover that Loving Day was an actual holiday, I hope that in my fiction, I have lived up to the Russert credo of getting things right, of conveying the significance of interracial relationships and how they show the importance of not limiting oneself to prescribed essentialist notions of love. I hope that my writing reflects that I speak from an informed place, illustrating that, with all its trials and tribulations, love is a beautiful gift – no matter the color of its wrapping.
Friday, June 13, 2008
Tuesday, May 13, 2008
May 14, 2008: The Power of Fan Mail
In my travels to author conferences, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve heard variations on this same speech: “You’ve Written Your Book. Now What?”
I can tell them “what.”
“What” is, if you’re lucky, handing over your intellectual property that you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time nurturing to some person at a publishing house whose last creative thought, mercifully, went down on the first flush of the bowl. “What” is watching others co-opt your vision and turn it into something you don’t recognize while you stand helplessly by.
“What” is, once your intellectual property is pushed out into the world, doing everything you can to ensure that you can find an audience who would love reading your story just as much as you enjoyed writing it. This might involve spending the GDP of a small nation on publicity, marketing, conferences, signage, samplers, tours, and anything else that might help you grab the attention of a population that has the attention span of a hummingbird on a Starbucks triple espresso.
For me, the ultimate high is making a connection with people through something that I created. Unfortunately, as many of us authors painfully realize, that desire gets lost in a sea of agents, editors, biannual royalty statements, the disbelief of the numbers on said royalty statements, Publishers Lunch and who’s gotten a better deal than you have, self-promotion, and, as one of my Blogging In Black colleagues said in a recent post, the voices inside of your head that you just cannot shut up, the voices of characters in the book you’d write if you could find a few minutes in the day so that the Muse may appear. In other words, more “what.”
Add this to the fact that most of the authors I know are creative people trying to navigate the soullessness expanse of Corporate America and the denizens inhabiting it. Throw a significant other, kids, and/or a pet into the mix, and soon – hypothetically speaking, of course – you’re sitting up late at night with an icy tumbler of Bacardi Select and Coke, pondering the crossroads at which you find yourself. The Dream versus Reality.
From my past posts, you know that I’ve been standing at this crossroads a lot lately, asking myself the hard questions late at night, when all is quiet. Fortunately for me, it is around that time that I also check my e-mail. At the crossroads late on April 29 of this year, I opened an e-mail entitled “Back to Life.” It went a little something like this:
Fan mail like this makes both the “what” and my tenure at the aforementioned crossroads a bit bearable. Because of M. and people like her with whom I’ve made that connection, I able to think that the road leading to The Dream may just trump the rutted road of a reality that truly bites. Because of M., I am able to ponder taking the road less traveled.
I can tell them “what.”
“What” is, if you’re lucky, handing over your intellectual property that you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time nurturing to some person at a publishing house whose last creative thought, mercifully, went down on the first flush of the bowl. “What” is watching others co-opt your vision and turn it into something you don’t recognize while you stand helplessly by.
“What” is, once your intellectual property is pushed out into the world, doing everything you can to ensure that you can find an audience who would love reading your story just as much as you enjoyed writing it. This might involve spending the GDP of a small nation on publicity, marketing, conferences, signage, samplers, tours, and anything else that might help you grab the attention of a population that has the attention span of a hummingbird on a Starbucks triple espresso.
For me, the ultimate high is making a connection with people through something that I created. Unfortunately, as many of us authors painfully realize, that desire gets lost in a sea of agents, editors, biannual royalty statements, the disbelief of the numbers on said royalty statements, Publishers Lunch and who’s gotten a better deal than you have, self-promotion, and, as one of my Blogging In Black colleagues said in a recent post, the voices inside of your head that you just cannot shut up, the voices of characters in the book you’d write if you could find a few minutes in the day so that the Muse may appear. In other words, more “what.”
Add this to the fact that most of the authors I know are creative people trying to navigate the soullessness expanse of Corporate America and the denizens inhabiting it. Throw a significant other, kids, and/or a pet into the mix, and soon – hypothetically speaking, of course – you’re sitting up late at night with an icy tumbler of Bacardi Select and Coke, pondering the crossroads at which you find yourself. The Dream versus Reality.
From my past posts, you know that I’ve been standing at this crossroads a lot lately, asking myself the hard questions late at night, when all is quiet. Fortunately for me, it is around that time that I also check my e-mail. At the crossroads late on April 29 of this year, I opened an e-mail entitled “Back to Life.” It went a little something like this:
Good evening Wendy,
OH MY GOODNESS... I just want to thank you for creating such a
wonderful and inspiring novel. You truly have an amazing gift. I have read my share of novels and I must say this one was incredible from the start....and I could not put it down. I literally just finished reading it and I had to Google you so I can send you this message. I hope you continue to write ...and I will happily read.
Thanks again for such an amazing story...You don’t know how your
work really touches the life of others. Thanks for restoring my faith in
happily ever afters.
M.
Fan mail like this makes both the “what” and my tenure at the aforementioned crossroads a bit bearable. Because of M. and people like her with whom I’ve made that connection, I able to think that the road leading to The Dream may just trump the rutted road of a reality that truly bites. Because of M., I am able to ponder taking the road less traveled.
Monday, April 14, 2008
April 14, 2008: Calculating ROI
Hey, y’all.
Now on to my latest rant, which is rather timely, considering that taxes are due tomorrow. If Three-6 Mafia thought it was hard out here for a pimp, they should’ve tried being mid-list authors. I’ve done so many talks about how, as an author, it was my dream to get a major book deal and get to The Show. Little did I realize that what I was doing as a self-published author was only the dress rehearsal for The Show. Two books in, it’s like I’m a self-published author, but with better distribution. It’s no secret that mainstream publishers spend hardly any money on publicity for a mid-list author. It’s the literary equivalent of throwing pasta up against the fridge and seeing if it’ll stick – without spending any money on a fridge. It’s up to you as the author to ensure that your baby, this tale that you’ve slaved over to make it just right, finds an actual audience.
To accomplish this, I’ve done some things that I never thought I’d do. I was watching the final season of HBO’s The Wire recently. One of the women in a Narcotics Anonymous-type support group said that a drug addict should never make a list of things she would never do to score drugs. Because, in the end, all you’re doing is making a list of the things you will actually do once you start fienin’. I likened that revelation to this quest to get my stories told. I’ve asked myself if what I’m doing is an addiction. After all, I’ve done some things that people who aren’t in this business think are just plain stupid. Cases in point. I’ve refinanced my house to pay for my marketing and publicity. I’ve driven from New York to Philly, selling only three books for all my trouble. I’ve traveled countless miles, in various and sundry weather events, in pursuit of this dream. I don’t even want to discuss the debt from that labor of love called The Book Squad. Every year, though, when I do my taxes, I look at what I’ve spent on marketing and PR, shake my head, and say, “Naw, that amount can’t be right!”
2008 promises a more hyped promotional juggernaut. Two literary tours (the Divine Literary and the Femme Fantastik), and at least three conventions to date – all with crazy registration fees and travel and accommodation expenses. Don’t get me wrong; I love writing. I love meeting people who love writing and reading as much as I do. I’ve met people who’ve told me that my books are on their Top Ten Favorite Books of All Time list, which does what’s left of my ego a world of good. That aside, am I less committed to my craft and to my fans if I ask myself when will I see some return on investment, or ROI? It’s got to happen eventually, right? I mean, wasn’t Jeff Bezos hemorrhaging money until the little company he’d started in his garage called Amazon.com turned the corner? John Grisham was selling A Time to Kill out of his trunk until he wrote The Firm and hit the mother lode. For God’s sake, Brad Pitt was the El Pollo Loco chicken before he hit it big. The point is, though, all of the aforementioned hit it big. They got ROI. When does it happen for an author in general and for me in particular?
This question especially troubles me now, as it is a certainty that we’re going to have layoffs at the Plantation. The price of gas hit an all-time high last week. Life is getting bleaker with every news cycle. There comes a time when one has to take her woman pill and become a realist.
That is until I get the next e-mail inviting me to the next conference, and I check my bank account to see if I can attend. That is when I really start to wonder if I am truly addicted, if I’m stupid enough to actually start making that list of things I won’t do to further this dream. Because, like Old Girl on The Wire, we know how that story ends, don’t we…?
Now on to my latest rant, which is rather timely, considering that taxes are due tomorrow. If Three-6 Mafia thought it was hard out here for a pimp, they should’ve tried being mid-list authors. I’ve done so many talks about how, as an author, it was my dream to get a major book deal and get to The Show. Little did I realize that what I was doing as a self-published author was only the dress rehearsal for The Show. Two books in, it’s like I’m a self-published author, but with better distribution. It’s no secret that mainstream publishers spend hardly any money on publicity for a mid-list author. It’s the literary equivalent of throwing pasta up against the fridge and seeing if it’ll stick – without spending any money on a fridge. It’s up to you as the author to ensure that your baby, this tale that you’ve slaved over to make it just right, finds an actual audience.
To accomplish this, I’ve done some things that I never thought I’d do. I was watching the final season of HBO’s The Wire recently. One of the women in a Narcotics Anonymous-type support group said that a drug addict should never make a list of things she would never do to score drugs. Because, in the end, all you’re doing is making a list of the things you will actually do once you start fienin’. I likened that revelation to this quest to get my stories told. I’ve asked myself if what I’m doing is an addiction. After all, I’ve done some things that people who aren’t in this business think are just plain stupid. Cases in point. I’ve refinanced my house to pay for my marketing and publicity. I’ve driven from New York to Philly, selling only three books for all my trouble. I’ve traveled countless miles, in various and sundry weather events, in pursuit of this dream. I don’t even want to discuss the debt from that labor of love called The Book Squad. Every year, though, when I do my taxes, I look at what I’ve spent on marketing and PR, shake my head, and say, “Naw, that amount can’t be right!”
2008 promises a more hyped promotional juggernaut. Two literary tours (the Divine Literary and the Femme Fantastik), and at least three conventions to date – all with crazy registration fees and travel and accommodation expenses. Don’t get me wrong; I love writing. I love meeting people who love writing and reading as much as I do. I’ve met people who’ve told me that my books are on their Top Ten Favorite Books of All Time list, which does what’s left of my ego a world of good. That aside, am I less committed to my craft and to my fans if I ask myself when will I see some return on investment, or ROI? It’s got to happen eventually, right? I mean, wasn’t Jeff Bezos hemorrhaging money until the little company he’d started in his garage called Amazon.com turned the corner? John Grisham was selling A Time to Kill out of his trunk until he wrote The Firm and hit the mother lode. For God’s sake, Brad Pitt was the El Pollo Loco chicken before he hit it big. The point is, though, all of the aforementioned hit it big. They got ROI. When does it happen for an author in general and for me in particular?
This question especially troubles me now, as it is a certainty that we’re going to have layoffs at the Plantation. The price of gas hit an all-time high last week. Life is getting bleaker with every news cycle. There comes a time when one has to take her woman pill and become a realist.
That is until I get the next e-mail inviting me to the next conference, and I check my bank account to see if I can attend. That is when I really start to wonder if I am truly addicted, if I’m stupid enough to actually start making that list of things I won’t do to further this dream. Because, like Old Girl on The Wire, we know how that story ends, don’t we…?
Sunday, February 17, 2008
February 17, 2008: Writer Masturbation: Not So Good For Anymore...
The year was 2002. I’d self-published Back to Life, put up a web site, and set about getting my name out there. From that moment on, I started my day with three solitary activities that brought me earth-shaking ecstasy. This, my writer masturbation, if you will, took the form of a) plugging my name into Google and seeing the number of hits I got; b) checking my rank on Amazon.com; and c) checking my rank on Barnes and Noble.com.
Oh, like I’m the only one who does this. Just like how only other people engage in that other form of auto-eroticism. Okay. Go on and take the delusory high road if you want to at my expense.
For those of you who don’t engage in the aforementioned three activities, trust me when I say it’s highly addictive. Every day, like the rat in the behaviorist experiment who presses the bar repeatedly, sometimes with an accompanying nasty shock until its food pellet shoots out, I check my Google hits and my rank on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.com. When a mainstream house republished Back to Life in 2004, writer masturbation began in earnest. I’d do it three… four… sometimes five times a day… slamming on that bar… waiting for the gratification that would send the adrenaline flowing through my body on tiny electrical currents… stimulating my amygdala. Between escalating sale numbers, Google hits in the tens of thousands, and the resultant orgasmic sense of euphoria, I, heading toward carpal tunnel syndrome at full speed, asked myself, “Who needs a man?!”
Flash a head four years. The steady paycheck from The Plantation is beginning to trump the uncertainty of dreams. I’m in publishing limbo, in terms of having a new release any time soon (we discussed this in a previous monthly therapy sessions on the 17th day of the month, remember?). My Amazon and Barnes and Noble.com numbers aren’t what they used to be. Fair weather friends have come and gone. Although you have to ask yourself how what sane person would be a star***ker to a writer anyway. We’re like Dr. Pepper – so misunderstood.
But I hang on to my morning writer masturbation ritual, even though my act is starting to sound like the actual sex that my married friends have with their husbands – half-assed, perfunctory, with very little in the way of the satisfaction afterwards. I do it, because I still get a decent number of Google hits. I still have a rank that’s comparable to many of my peers out there with two books on the market. Unlike the dull married sex, thousands of people like me. They really like me. Plus what I do fulfills me. Yes, I worry about pleasing someone else, but my needs always come first. I “get mine” first. I bet my next royalty check that my married friends can’t say that. They may think it, but that’s a whole different story… mercifully one that I don’t have to tell.
For these reasons alone, come the morning (no pun intended!), you know where you’ll find me… on the computer… doing my thing. Because I know that one day, writer masturbation will be good to me again as it was that very first time. Perhaps even better…
Oh, like I’m the only one who does this. Just like how only other people engage in that other form of auto-eroticism. Okay. Go on and take the delusory high road if you want to at my expense.
For those of you who don’t engage in the aforementioned three activities, trust me when I say it’s highly addictive. Every day, like the rat in the behaviorist experiment who presses the bar repeatedly, sometimes with an accompanying nasty shock until its food pellet shoots out, I check my Google hits and my rank on Amazon and Barnes and Noble.com. When a mainstream house republished Back to Life in 2004, writer masturbation began in earnest. I’d do it three… four… sometimes five times a day… slamming on that bar… waiting for the gratification that would send the adrenaline flowing through my body on tiny electrical currents… stimulating my amygdala. Between escalating sale numbers, Google hits in the tens of thousands, and the resultant orgasmic sense of euphoria, I, heading toward carpal tunnel syndrome at full speed, asked myself, “Who needs a man?!”
Flash a head four years. The steady paycheck from The Plantation is beginning to trump the uncertainty of dreams. I’m in publishing limbo, in terms of having a new release any time soon (we discussed this in a previous monthly therapy sessions on the 17th day of the month, remember?). My Amazon and Barnes and Noble.com numbers aren’t what they used to be. Fair weather friends have come and gone. Although you have to ask yourself how what sane person would be a star***ker to a writer anyway. We’re like Dr. Pepper – so misunderstood.
But I hang on to my morning writer masturbation ritual, even though my act is starting to sound like the actual sex that my married friends have with their husbands – half-assed, perfunctory, with very little in the way of the satisfaction afterwards. I do it, because I still get a decent number of Google hits. I still have a rank that’s comparable to many of my peers out there with two books on the market. Unlike the dull married sex, thousands of people like me. They really like me. Plus what I do fulfills me. Yes, I worry about pleasing someone else, but my needs always come first. I “get mine” first. I bet my next royalty check that my married friends can’t say that. They may think it, but that’s a whole different story… mercifully one that I don’t have to tell.
For these reasons alone, come the morning (no pun intended!), you know where you’ll find me… on the computer… doing my thing. Because I know that one day, writer masturbation will be good to me again as it was that very first time. Perhaps even better…
Monday, February 04, 2008
February 4, 2007: Good Vibes All Around
I'm still on a hell of a high, after watching the Giants beat the Patriots like a rented mule to win Super Bowl 42. I've waited seventeen years for this moment. The fact that the punctured the Patriot Pomposity made it all the sweeter. Bill Belichick left skidmarks, before the game was even over, as he rushed off the field and into the Sore Loser Hall of Fame. I hope he was taping that exit. Karma is such a bee-otch!
Then today, Lori Bryant Woolridge, my good friend and fellow Fantastik Femme, forwarded me this video. It's not secret that I am a proud and practicing Democrat. I also haven't been shy about who I intend to vote for in the Virginia Democratic primaries on February 12 and on the first Tuesday in November of this year.
This video comes from Will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas fame, along with a few guests. Check it out; it's amazing:
Then today, Lori Bryant Woolridge, my good friend and fellow Fantastik Femme, forwarded me this video. It's not secret that I am a proud and practicing Democrat. I also haven't been shy about who I intend to vote for in the Virginia Democratic primaries on February 12 and on the first Tuesday in November of this year.
This video comes from Will.i.am of the Black Eyed Peas fame, along with a few guests. Check it out; it's amazing:
Thursday, January 24, 2008
January 24, 2008: RIP, Karibu
Imagine my complete and utter astonishment when I opened my e-mail and received this missive, date January 22, 2008:
Dear Karibu Customer,
After 15 years of service within the Washington, DC metropolitan area, Karibu Books, a Black bookstore chain will be closing its doors. We sincerely thank each and every one of you for your patronage and support. We are optimistic that our mission to empower and educate through a comprehensive selection of books by and about people of African descent will continue to resonate within the communities we proudly served.
Since 1993, we have been blessed to help thousands of local, regional and national authors share their incredible stories of faith, hope, love, peace, politics and race. We cannot begin to express our gratitude for the countless authors who have graced our six stores and enriched our customers’ lives.
On Sunday, January 27th, We will be closing our Security Square (Baltimore, MD) and Forestville locations. The remaining locations, Bowie Town Center, The Mall at Prince Georges and Iverson Mall will close on Sunday, February 10th. Our Pentagon City store is already closed.
Effective immediately, all inventory at all locations will be 50% off. All fixtures will also be available for purchase on February 10th. See individual store managers for more information.
Again, we respectfully thank you for your loyalty, laughter and love. What an honor and privilege it has been to serve our community!
Sincerely,
Simba Sana
CEO
Karibu Books
Let the bloodletting begin.
I don't know if folks understand the ramifications of this loss to the book-buying communities and to authors like myself who aren't pulling down J.K. Rowling-like numbers.
Where I can hardly find any books on issues concerning people of color, or books by authors of color in the evil chain bookstore just up the street from me, I never have a problem locating what I needed at Karibu. Where the same evil chain, less a mile from my home, requires people to special order my books, Karibu stocks my work at their six locations.
I had a signing at the Karibu store in P.G. Plaza in the fall of 2004 for my book Back to Life. I couldn't put my signature on the title pages fast enough before the books would go flying out the building. The staff was always helpful and courteous, always making me like I was more than just some lowly midlist author. Signings at a Karibu store were more like hanging out with friends and less like actual work.
The venues in the DC-area for books by people of color have been dwindling as of late. Reprints in L'Enfant Plaza shut its doors. So has Sisterspace. Now Karibu. I pray that this isn't the first note of the death knell for independent bookstores in general, and of those for folks of color in particular. As both an author and a person of color, I couldn't and wouldn't want to imagine a world so horribly deprived.
Dear Karibu Customer,
After 15 years of service within the Washington, DC metropolitan area, Karibu Books, a Black bookstore chain will be closing its doors. We sincerely thank each and every one of you for your patronage and support. We are optimistic that our mission to empower and educate through a comprehensive selection of books by and about people of African descent will continue to resonate within the communities we proudly served.
Since 1993, we have been blessed to help thousands of local, regional and national authors share their incredible stories of faith, hope, love, peace, politics and race. We cannot begin to express our gratitude for the countless authors who have graced our six stores and enriched our customers’ lives.
On Sunday, January 27th, We will be closing our Security Square (Baltimore, MD) and Forestville locations. The remaining locations, Bowie Town Center, The Mall at Prince Georges and Iverson Mall will close on Sunday, February 10th. Our Pentagon City store is already closed.
Effective immediately, all inventory at all locations will be 50% off. All fixtures will also be available for purchase on February 10th. See individual store managers for more information.
Again, we respectfully thank you for your loyalty, laughter and love. What an honor and privilege it has been to serve our community!
Sincerely,
Simba Sana
CEO
Karibu Books
Let the bloodletting begin.
I don't know if folks understand the ramifications of this loss to the book-buying communities and to authors like myself who aren't pulling down J.K. Rowling-like numbers.
Where I can hardly find any books on issues concerning people of color, or books by authors of color in the evil chain bookstore just up the street from me, I never have a problem locating what I needed at Karibu. Where the same evil chain, less a mile from my home, requires people to special order my books, Karibu stocks my work at their six locations.
I had a signing at the Karibu store in P.G. Plaza in the fall of 2004 for my book Back to Life. I couldn't put my signature on the title pages fast enough before the books would go flying out the building. The staff was always helpful and courteous, always making me like I was more than just some lowly midlist author. Signings at a Karibu store were more like hanging out with friends and less like actual work.
The venues in the DC-area for books by people of color have been dwindling as of late. Reprints in L'Enfant Plaza shut its doors. So has Sisterspace. Now Karibu. I pray that this isn't the first note of the death knell for independent bookstores in general, and of those for folks of color in particular. As both an author and a person of color, I couldn't and wouldn't want to imagine a world so horribly deprived.
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Greetings from Bootleg University
I have to share, y’all…
So, I am answering my e-mail on the first Monday of the New Year – “minding my own bidness,” as Eddie Murphy would say – when I open the following e-mail from my alma mater, Bootleg University (obvious, though apropos, not its real name; all names are withheld or changed to protect anonymity):
Dear Dr. Coakley-Thompson,
President [Name Withheld] of Bootleg University was invited to the inauguration of Robert Franklin, Jr. as the tenth president of Morehouse College in Atlanta on Friday, February 15, but… is unable to attend. Is there any chance you would be interested in attending as the University's representative?
Yours,
[Redacted]
I confess; I am both honored that they’d thought of me and curious as to why… all at the same time. After all, when I’d attended the university, I wasn’t even a mere blip on the radar screen there. I also have a love/hate relationship with the place. Never known to nurture talent, this is the same university who, rumor has it, told a certain popular action film star (hint: his ex is married to a much younger man, with whom he’s friends) to hang it up and find work in some other field. Rumor also has it that they’d told another theater student that she’d never amount to nothing. Years later, she became one of the breakout stars of a famous Black musical co-writen by Ossie Davis. I rest my case.
Nonetheless, curiosity devours me whole. I send the following missive in response:
Good evening, [Redacted].
I am honored that you are considering me to be the University's representative on such a monumental occasion. I am certainly interested in attending but remain curious at to what representing the University would entail.
Please feel free to reach me at xxx-xxx-xxxx to discuss this further.
Best,
Wendy Coakley-Thompson, Ph.D.
[Redacted] does, indeed, call, and we discuss the proposition on the table. It turns out that our chronically wrong Alumni Association has told him that I still live in Atlanta. When I tell [Redacted] that I’ve relocated back to DC, he asks if I’d consider flying down to represent the president at the graduation, at the ensuing convocation, and at the concert on graduation night. I’m thinking a free trip to the ATL, during which, after my spokes model duties, I could drop into my old haunts and sign a few books… perhaps host a reading or two. “Sure,” I say.
[Redacted] and I hang up, all simpatico. “Thanks very much for agreeing to represent Bootleg University,” he says in a subsequent e-mail, then asks for my updated contact info, which I happily give. Moreover, [Redacted] and I are now on a first-name basis now. I e-mail back promptly:
Hi there, [Redacted].
Good talking to you today.
I'm happy to represent my alma mater. I'm sure we'll be working out all of the transport and accommodation details as the time approaches… Let's talk again soon.
Best,
Wendy
Simpatico evaporates like water in the Mojave Desert, though, when I get [Redacted’s] next e-mail:
To read the rest, check out the January 17, 2008 entry on Blogging in Black...
So, I am answering my e-mail on the first Monday of the New Year – “minding my own bidness,” as Eddie Murphy would say – when I open the following e-mail from my alma mater, Bootleg University (obvious, though apropos, not its real name; all names are withheld or changed to protect anonymity):
Dear Dr. Coakley-Thompson,
President [Name Withheld] of Bootleg University was invited to the inauguration of Robert Franklin, Jr. as the tenth president of Morehouse College in Atlanta on Friday, February 15, but… is unable to attend. Is there any chance you would be interested in attending as the University's representative?
Yours,
[Redacted]
I confess; I am both honored that they’d thought of me and curious as to why… all at the same time. After all, when I’d attended the university, I wasn’t even a mere blip on the radar screen there. I also have a love/hate relationship with the place. Never known to nurture talent, this is the same university who, rumor has it, told a certain popular action film star (hint: his ex is married to a much younger man, with whom he’s friends) to hang it up and find work in some other field. Rumor also has it that they’d told another theater student that she’d never amount to nothing. Years later, she became one of the breakout stars of a famous Black musical co-writen by Ossie Davis. I rest my case.
Nonetheless, curiosity devours me whole. I send the following missive in response:
Good evening, [Redacted].
I am honored that you are considering me to be the University's representative on such a monumental occasion. I am certainly interested in attending but remain curious at to what representing the University would entail.
Please feel free to reach me at xxx-xxx-xxxx to discuss this further.
Best,
Wendy Coakley-Thompson, Ph.D.
[Redacted] does, indeed, call, and we discuss the proposition on the table. It turns out that our chronically wrong Alumni Association has told him that I still live in Atlanta. When I tell [Redacted] that I’ve relocated back to DC, he asks if I’d consider flying down to represent the president at the graduation, at the ensuing convocation, and at the concert on graduation night. I’m thinking a free trip to the ATL, during which, after my spokes model duties, I could drop into my old haunts and sign a few books… perhaps host a reading or two. “Sure,” I say.
[Redacted] and I hang up, all simpatico. “Thanks very much for agreeing to represent Bootleg University,” he says in a subsequent e-mail, then asks for my updated contact info, which I happily give. Moreover, [Redacted] and I are now on a first-name basis now. I e-mail back promptly:
Hi there, [Redacted].
Good talking to you today.
I'm happy to represent my alma mater. I'm sure we'll be working out all of the transport and accommodation details as the time approaches… Let's talk again soon.
Best,
Wendy
Simpatico evaporates like water in the Mojave Desert, though, when I get [Redacted’s] next e-mail:
To read the rest, check out the January 17, 2008 entry on Blogging in Black...
Tuesday, January 01, 2008
January 1, 2008: Wishing You a Happy New Year
Just a shorty to extend peace and blessings to you for this New Year, 2008.
Keep watching this space and travel with me for what I hope will be a year of numerous successes in reaping the fruits from a field well tilled...
Keep watching this space and travel with me for what I hope will be a year of numerous successes in reaping the fruits from a field well tilled...
Monday, December 17, 2007
2007: A Rebuilding Year
“Rebuilding year.”
Here in D.C., you hear that a lot. Nobody wants the Washington Redskins to make the Playoffs more than I do, but over the years, I’ve learned my lesson. Once a team blows a whole season, the coach usually attributes the whole debacle to the team having a “rebuilding year.” Last month’s tragic death of Sean Taylor aside, I imagine that the “rebuilding year” will be the old standby once the Super Bowl becomes, again, the unattained goal for the Skins.
I can relate to the Skins this year. 2007 has been my rebuilding year. I prefer “rebuilding year” to “annus horribilis.” This was the year that the writing career began to feel like slogging through mud. This year, rejections rained down on The Kid – that would be me – like dollars that Floyd Mayweather throws up in the club. And we know how Floyd can make it rain. It’s quite humbling when, as an author who’s sold a respectable number of books, I still get rejections from editors who don’t even have the common courtesy to spell my name right, or who put their names on rejection letters written by their lower paid minions, on whom I’ve been fobbed.
This year, I parted ways with my management, beginning the long hard road to finding a new literary agent. And you all know how much fun that can be. It amazes me that some agents can’t even be bothered to lick the SASE that they’ve insisted you enclose, once they’ve decided not to represent you. Apparently, some authors aren’t even worth the saliva needed to seal an envelope.
This year, I’ve begun to wonder if being a writer is worth dealing with the business of publishing. The aptly named business end of the industry is hard, cold, devoid of any imagination, which is weird, considering that the fruits of our imagination prime the pump. Case in point. I have a friend who’s an exceedingly talented author. I mean, the brothah’s bottom-of-the-ocean deep. His use of prose and mastery of the English language are second to none. He quotes German philosophers in his jacket copy to button up his point. This brothah says he’s done with the industry, which couldn’t be any sadder. The publishing house he recently left probably has no idea of their loss.
But 2008 is coming, and the advent of a New Year brings the promise of hope. Writers have power. Just look to California at the strike that Screenwriters Guild of America is waging, demanding that writers get their fair share of DVD profits. Late night TV is a wasteland of reruns. I can’t even get my Bill Maher fix on HBO, because, as funny as Bill is, he needs folks to put words into his mouth. All we have to look forward to watching is Dance War: Bruno Versus Carrie Ann and other crappy reality shows as the strike goes on. “The Winter of Our Dissed Content,” one writer had scribbled on his strike placard. And I can’t steal a sports metaphor – “rebuilding year” – without mentioning Randy Moss. Last year, Randy Moss couldn’t have gotten arrested, which, let’s face it, is lately an exception for an NFL player. Now he’s on the receiving end of Tom Brady’s rifle of an arm. He’s playing for the New England Patriots, who, as of yesterday, are 14-0, making the first team in the league with that distinction since 1972.
So, in 2008, I’ll channel Randy Moss and the screenwriters and extrapolate their triumphs into my hopes and dreams for the future. The film version of my second book, What You Won’t Do For Love, is going along smoothly in pre-production. I’m continuing on the Femme Fantastik Tour with Lori Bryant Woolridge, ReShonda Tate Billingsley, Trisha R. Thomas, Carmen Green, and Berta Platas. I’ll also join my fellow Black Greeks on the Divine Literary Tour. Moreover, I’ve received a wonderful write-up in the 2008 Bahamas Handbook, which should open me up to a wider audience. God willing.
About the craft itself, I’ve written a wonderfully poignant story called, Triptych, about how love and the strong bonds of family transcend death and the passage of time. I think you’ll like it when you get a chance to read it. If that doesn’t happen with a mainstream publisher, I’ll publish it myself, which is the route that other established but under-appreciated authors are taking as of late. For inspiration, I look at the great and wildly accomplished Deepak Chopra, one of the pioneers in mind-body medicine, who’s sold millions of books worldwide. I bet few people know that he was once a self-published author.
To be continued. Until then, please, have a safe and joyous holiday. See you back here in 2008…
Here in D.C., you hear that a lot. Nobody wants the Washington Redskins to make the Playoffs more than I do, but over the years, I’ve learned my lesson. Once a team blows a whole season, the coach usually attributes the whole debacle to the team having a “rebuilding year.” Last month’s tragic death of Sean Taylor aside, I imagine that the “rebuilding year” will be the old standby once the Super Bowl becomes, again, the unattained goal for the Skins.
I can relate to the Skins this year. 2007 has been my rebuilding year. I prefer “rebuilding year” to “annus horribilis.” This was the year that the writing career began to feel like slogging through mud. This year, rejections rained down on The Kid – that would be me – like dollars that Floyd Mayweather throws up in the club. And we know how Floyd can make it rain. It’s quite humbling when, as an author who’s sold a respectable number of books, I still get rejections from editors who don’t even have the common courtesy to spell my name right, or who put their names on rejection letters written by their lower paid minions, on whom I’ve been fobbed.
This year, I parted ways with my management, beginning the long hard road to finding a new literary agent. And you all know how much fun that can be. It amazes me that some agents can’t even be bothered to lick the SASE that they’ve insisted you enclose, once they’ve decided not to represent you. Apparently, some authors aren’t even worth the saliva needed to seal an envelope.
This year, I’ve begun to wonder if being a writer is worth dealing with the business of publishing. The aptly named business end of the industry is hard, cold, devoid of any imagination, which is weird, considering that the fruits of our imagination prime the pump. Case in point. I have a friend who’s an exceedingly talented author. I mean, the brothah’s bottom-of-the-ocean deep. His use of prose and mastery of the English language are second to none. He quotes German philosophers in his jacket copy to button up his point. This brothah says he’s done with the industry, which couldn’t be any sadder. The publishing house he recently left probably has no idea of their loss.
But 2008 is coming, and the advent of a New Year brings the promise of hope. Writers have power. Just look to California at the strike that Screenwriters Guild of America is waging, demanding that writers get their fair share of DVD profits. Late night TV is a wasteland of reruns. I can’t even get my Bill Maher fix on HBO, because, as funny as Bill is, he needs folks to put words into his mouth. All we have to look forward to watching is Dance War: Bruno Versus Carrie Ann and other crappy reality shows as the strike goes on. “The Winter of Our Dissed Content,” one writer had scribbled on his strike placard. And I can’t steal a sports metaphor – “rebuilding year” – without mentioning Randy Moss. Last year, Randy Moss couldn’t have gotten arrested, which, let’s face it, is lately an exception for an NFL player. Now he’s on the receiving end of Tom Brady’s rifle of an arm. He’s playing for the New England Patriots, who, as of yesterday, are 14-0, making the first team in the league with that distinction since 1972.
So, in 2008, I’ll channel Randy Moss and the screenwriters and extrapolate their triumphs into my hopes and dreams for the future. The film version of my second book, What You Won’t Do For Love, is going along smoothly in pre-production. I’m continuing on the Femme Fantastik Tour with Lori Bryant Woolridge, ReShonda Tate Billingsley, Trisha R. Thomas, Carmen Green, and Berta Platas. I’ll also join my fellow Black Greeks on the Divine Literary Tour. Moreover, I’ve received a wonderful write-up in the 2008 Bahamas Handbook, which should open me up to a wider audience. God willing.
About the craft itself, I’ve written a wonderfully poignant story called, Triptych, about how love and the strong bonds of family transcend death and the passage of time. I think you’ll like it when you get a chance to read it. If that doesn’t happen with a mainstream publisher, I’ll publish it myself, which is the route that other established but under-appreciated authors are taking as of late. For inspiration, I look at the great and wildly accomplished Deepak Chopra, one of the pioneers in mind-body medicine, who’s sold millions of books worldwide. I bet few people know that he was once a self-published author.
To be continued. Until then, please, have a safe and joyous holiday. See you back here in 2008…
Thursday, October 25, 2007
October 25, 2007: What's Next on The Book Squad -- Bye For Now...
On October 26, 2007, The Book Squad will begin an indefinite hiatus from the air.
To go out in style, Karyn and Wendy will re-broadcast interviews that mean a great deal to them, for reasons they will discuss later. Karrine Steffan's interview from October 12 will air again, in support of her latest title, The Vixen Diaries.
Next, Roscoe Orman's interview from October 5 will air. Orman talks about his life as Gordon on Sesame St., as well as about his latest book, Ricky and Mobo.
Then joining the mix, live, via phone, is DeMonica D. Gladney, author
of Willing to Wait: From Revelation to Manifestation. Gladney, in addition to being a poet and author, is a corporate lawyer and former president of the Houston Lawyers Association.
Our special live in-studio guest is Christina"Chrissie Love" Russell of 102.9 Island FM Radio in Nassau, Bahamas.
So join us for our last Friday together on wmet1160.com as we say a fond farewell for now and turn out all the lights behind us...
To go out in style, Karyn and Wendy will re-broadcast interviews that mean a great deal to them, for reasons they will discuss later. Karrine Steffan's interview from October 12 will air again, in support of her latest title, The Vixen Diaries.
Next, Roscoe Orman's interview from October 5 will air. Orman talks about his life as Gordon on Sesame St., as well as about his latest book, Ricky and Mobo.
Then joining the mix, live, via phone, is DeMonica D. Gladney, author
of Willing to Wait: From Revelation to Manifestation. Gladney, in addition to being a poet and author, is a corporate lawyer and former president of the Houston Lawyers Association.Our special live in-studio guest is Christina"Chrissie Love" Russell of 102.9 Island FM Radio in Nassau, Bahamas.
So join us for our last Friday together on wmet1160.com as we say a fond farewell for now and turn out all the lights behind us...
Thursday, October 18, 2007
October 18, 2007: What's Next on The Book Squad
We have pets... and something completely different on The Book Squad this Friday.The "Pets" part of the show begins with Patricia B. McConnell, author of For the Love of a Dog: Understanding Emotion in You and Your Best Friend. McConnell has much-needed advice for those of us who love and cherish our dogs but don't have a clue as to why they do some of the things they do.
Then Ann M. Martin joins us to talk about Food Pets Die For: Shocking Facts
About Pet Food. Martin discusses the dirty little secrets of pet food companies and offers her own alternatives, nutritional advice, and strategies to avoid scams aimed at pet owners.The "Something Completely Different" comes in the form of Essence best seller Daaimah S. Poole, author of All I Want is Everything. In this, her latest novel, Poole says she
"confronts a dilemma that many of us tackle every day -- fear. Fear of putting our all into a dream and walking into the unknown."Marcus Robinson is in the Author Spotlight.
Plus Heather Taylor from The Heather Taylor Show loved co-hosting so much that she's back again. And there's Wendy's World.
So sit, fetch, roll over, and listen to The Book Squad on wmet1160.com, tomorrow from noon to 1:00 PM. We'll even let you sit on the couch!
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
October 17, 2007: Escaping My Discomfort Zone
We’ve been hanging together now for some time now, so I’m sure it won’t come as a shock to you to know that I’m a tad on the anal-retentive side. I’m not entirely puckered, though. I still try new things, but I do so begrudgingly. And lots of colorful swearing follow along in my wake. I usually blame that on Jersey, my alter ego. To this day, though, I remain surprised at how incompatible my anal-retentive nature is with doing all of the publicity that is required if one wants to sell a respectable number of books.
Case in point. I was so excited to be asked to join the Femme Fantastic Tour. After all, the mission of the tour was for seven authors to show support for our troops by visiting military installations and autographing books. Plus I was going to be in good company. Lori Bryant-Woolridge was flush from just having released Weapons of Mass Seduction, a damned good book. Carmen Green and ReShonda Tate Billingsley have written so many books between them that they make Stephen King look lazy. Halle Berry just optioned the rights to Trish R. Thomas’s Nappily Ever After, and Nina Foxx is producing a play based on one of her own books. And Berta Platas adds her Latina flava to the mix. So it seemed like it was going to be a party like no other, replete with sisterly bonding and many martinis.
Of course, reality is always different from the fantasy. I felt this acutely as I was barreling down 95 South from Virginia to North Carolina, my alter ego Jersey cussing like swear words were ten minutes away from being outlawed. If you think that Mapquest is the Devil, then hotel directions are Dante’s ninth concentric circle of Hell. When I finally did meet up with the authors – Lori, Carmen, and ReShonda – on this, the Fort Bragg leg of the tour, I was flustered, irritated, and heart-patient sweaty. Just what you want in an author you’re about to meet, right? Mercifully, Lori had her portable GPS, which proved invaluable.
When we got to Fort Bragg, though, I realized the upside of being forced outside of one’s comfort zone. At the PX, we met and signed books for members of our armed forces and their families. They were so happy to see us, so thankful that we’d come to visit them. Which was such a contrast to some civilian signings I’d done at book stores, where people treated you like you were trying to interest them in buying a steaming turd.
Also, my well-meaning friends told me when I hit that particular milestone that forty isn’t old. I tell you, forty is plenty old when I’m looking at young soldiers going to or coming from Iraq, along with their wives (and husbands!), some of whom were born the year I started college. They were probably conceived while their parents were listening to the same Culture Club and Prince jams that I was bustin’ a move to at the freshman dance. Being forced outside of your comfort zone, more often than not, makes you put life in perspective, makes you rethink your perception of discomfort. Getting lost on a North Carolina highway in a fancy rental car with crappy directions versus getting shot at in a HumVee in Fallujah. No contest.
I visit five more military installations on the Femme Fantastik Tour, which starts up again in 2008. If you think Jersey’s going to disappear, that I’m not going to be pissed that Fate is moving my water dish, that I’m going to stop being anal-retentive – perish the thought. Spiky when squeezed is who I am, and I do it well. I will, though, be mindful of the ever-changing perspective that one finds in the Discomfort Zone… and try my hardest to chill.
Case in point. I was so excited to be asked to join the Femme Fantastic Tour. After all, the mission of the tour was for seven authors to show support for our troops by visiting military installations and autographing books. Plus I was going to be in good company. Lori Bryant-Woolridge was flush from just having released Weapons of Mass Seduction, a damned good book. Carmen Green and ReShonda Tate Billingsley have written so many books between them that they make Stephen King look lazy. Halle Berry just optioned the rights to Trish R. Thomas’s Nappily Ever After, and Nina Foxx is producing a play based on one of her own books. And Berta Platas adds her Latina flava to the mix. So it seemed like it was going to be a party like no other, replete with sisterly bonding and many martinis.
Of course, reality is always different from the fantasy. I felt this acutely as I was barreling down 95 South from Virginia to North Carolina, my alter ego Jersey cussing like swear words were ten minutes away from being outlawed. If you think that Mapquest is the Devil, then hotel directions are Dante’s ninth concentric circle of Hell. When I finally did meet up with the authors – Lori, Carmen, and ReShonda – on this, the Fort Bragg leg of the tour, I was flustered, irritated, and heart-patient sweaty. Just what you want in an author you’re about to meet, right? Mercifully, Lori had her portable GPS, which proved invaluable.
When we got to Fort Bragg, though, I realized the upside of being forced outside of one’s comfort zone. At the PX, we met and signed books for members of our armed forces and their families. They were so happy to see us, so thankful that we’d come to visit them. Which was such a contrast to some civilian signings I’d done at book stores, where people treated you like you were trying to interest them in buying a steaming turd.
Also, my well-meaning friends told me when I hit that particular milestone that forty isn’t old. I tell you, forty is plenty old when I’m looking at young soldiers going to or coming from Iraq, along with their wives (and husbands!), some of whom were born the year I started college. They were probably conceived while their parents were listening to the same Culture Club and Prince jams that I was bustin’ a move to at the freshman dance. Being forced outside of your comfort zone, more often than not, makes you put life in perspective, makes you rethink your perception of discomfort. Getting lost on a North Carolina highway in a fancy rental car with crappy directions versus getting shot at in a HumVee in Fallujah. No contest.
I visit five more military installations on the Femme Fantastik Tour, which starts up again in 2008. If you think Jersey’s going to disappear, that I’m not going to be pissed that Fate is moving my water dish, that I’m going to stop being anal-retentive – perish the thought. Spiky when squeezed is who I am, and I do it well. I will, though, be mindful of the ever-changing perspective that one finds in the Discomfort Zone… and try my hardest to chill.
Friday, October 12, 2007
October 12, 2007: What's Next on The Book Squad -- Vixens and Secrets!
It's a day for the ladies on The Book Squad.First up, we have Karrine Steffans -- no descriptor needed. The always controversial author of Confessions of a Video Vixen is back with her latest, The Vixen Diaries, in which she regales us with lessons learned after the ascent afforded her with the publication of Confessions.
Then Dari Dyrness-Olssen shares Seven Secrets For Girls: Simple Solutions to Survive Boys and Stay Sane. She says to girls that "THIS WILL BE THE MOST IMPORTANT
BOOK THAT YOU WILL EVER READ. The information found in this book will positively affect your life FOREVER. After reading SEVEN SECRETS you will have the skills to become happier, healthier, and more satisfied with your life." We're all for that.LaConnie Taylor-Jones , author of When I'm With You, is in the Author Spotlight.
Plus there's much more, including Wendy's World.
So join us today at noon on wmet1160.com. Hey, ladies!
Thursday, October 04, 2007
October 4, 2007: What's Next on The Book Squad -- Celebrating the Capital Bookfest
This weekend in D.C., it's all about The 3rd Annual Capital Bookfest. Not to toot our own horn -- TOOT, TOOT! BEEP BEEP! -- but The Book Squad is one of the sponsors of this event, taking place on Saturday, October 6 at the Blvd @ Cap Centre, in Largo, Maryland. Over 100 authors from a myriad of genres will be there. Three of them will appear on tomorrow's Book Squad. Poet, F.O.T.B.S., and organizer of the event, Kwame Alexander, is first up to whet your appetites with what awaits you at the event. He's holding down every aspect
of The Bookfest, right down to the weather, which, he promises will be in the moderate eighty-degree range.Those of you who were rabid fans of Sesame Street in your youth will undoubtedly remember our next guest, Roscoe Orman. The actor, who has played Gordon for thirty-five years, has written his second book, Ricky and Mobo, a story of a boy and his favorite mechanical horse.
Next we shift gears to John Amaechi, author of the
controversial Man in the Middle. Amaechi tells us about his life's journey, from a hardscrabble existence in Manchester, England, to being a closeted gay man in the uber-masculine NBA, to his present quest to make the world a better place.Victoria Rowell, accomplished television actress and philanthropist, has now added memorist to her list of talents. With her book The Women Who Raised Me, Rowell
chronicles her life as a biracial ward of the state of Maine who could've fallen through the cracks of an overburdened foster-care system -- had it not been for several amazing women who loved, guided, and nurtured her.Author Heather Taylor, host of WMET 1160's The Heather Taylor Show, is today's guest co-host with Wendy in studio.
So listen Friday -- noon, Friday -- to The Book Squad on WMET1160.com. And see you Saturday, October 6 at The 3rd Annual Capital Bookfest.
Thursday, September 27, 2007
What's next on the Book Squad: ROAD TRIP!
This week, Karyn and Wendy broadcast The Book Squad from the Infinity Publishing's 8th Annual Author's Conference in sunny Valley Forge, PA. Conference attendees will attend seminars and gain strategies for producing and marketing their self-published books.First up, conference attendee Eric Kampmann, President of Beaufort Books and Midnight Trade Distributors, appears on the show to discuss how he came to bring the O.J. Simpson tome, If I Did It, to the masses.
Tom Gregory, Infinity Publishing's President, tells Book Squad listeners about his latest endeavor, Authornation, the online community for authors, writers, poets, and their readers.
Jane M. Martin, the author of Breathe Better, Living in Wellness: Winning Your Battle Over Shortness of Breath shares with us the secret of better living through better breathing.
Lastly, Conference Coordinator John Harnish visits with other break-out Infinity authors in tow.
So, listen to The Book Squad on Friday, from noon to 1:oo on wmet1160.com and check out the new improved website! It's the next best thing to being with Karyn and Wendy at the conference.
Friday, September 21, 2007
September 21, 2007: What's Next on The Book Squad -- All of the West Indian Massives!
Karyn and Wendy are back with new shows for you, the devoted listeners. And, as summer winds down, we cleave to the lazy hot days of summer -- elsewhere -- by showcasing authors from the West Indies.First up, we have award-winning Haitian-born author Edwidge Danticat, whose latest work, Brother, I'm Dying, is a touching journey of how she comes to terms with tragically losing both her biological and surrogate fathers at the same time, all while preparing herself for impending motherhood.
Next, there's Jamaican author Colin Channer, often called "Bob
Marley with a pen," according to Wikipedia. He discusses his latest, The Girl With the Golden Shoes, a 2007 Washington Post Spring Pick.
Next, there's Jamaican author Colin Channer, often called "Bob
Marley with a pen," according to Wikipedia. He discusses his latest, The Girl With the Golden Shoes, a 2007 Washington Post Spring Pick.Also joing Karyn and Wendy is Sofia Quintero, aka Black Artemis, nuesta hermana dominicana y puertoriquena from the Bronx, holding it down with her latest Names I Call My Sister. She challenges essentialist notions of Latino culture, feminism, and street lit, all interwoven with a hip hop sensibility. 
Deborah Slappey Pitts is in the Author Spotlight.
So, listen to The Book Squad on WMET1160.com. We'll keep an iced Bacardi and Coke waiting for ya...
Monday, September 17, 2007
September 17, 2007: Authornation -- No Passport Required
Those of you who know me must’ve heard the story of how I got into this publishing racket… *cough, cough* … I mean “industry.” If not, here are the Cliff Notes. In 2001, tired of rejection, uncharacteristically flush with cash, and still shaken from seeing the Pentagon on fire in my rear view mirror on 9/11, I made the decision to self-publish. Serendipitously, my cousin gave me a subscription to Black Issues Book Review (BIBR) right about that time. In a BIBR article on self-publishing, I learned about Infinity Publishing. I went with them, and the rest, as they say, is Black History. I still maintain that the owner of the company, Tom Gregory, changed my life.
So, six years, one mainstream book deal, and two books later, I find myself once again observing Tom on the innovative edge of the industry, this time, helping writers reach out to each other. He has introduced a portal for writers called Authornation. I logged on and browsed through it, and I hope Tom forgives me when I say it’s like MySpace for writers. And, from my July 17th entry, you all know how addicted I am to the cybercrack that is MySpace. Sometimes, I’m like Chris Rock as Pookie in New Jack City, scratching myself and whining, “It be callin’ me! It be callin’ me!” But I digress…
I opened an Authornation account, browsed, posted some new writing to introduce myself, and read through the many forums on the site. There are even forums exploring specific genres. I posted a question there, under “African-American” almost a week ago, asking for suggestions on how African American writers could achieve mass appeal. Shockingly, the question has had no replies, prompting me to think that perhaps The Kid may be the fly in the literary buttermilk. Once again.
Hence the thrust to share this innovation with you. Check it out. Here’s the link to Authornation. There’s no pressure. To visit this nation is practically effortless. No shots, quinine pills, or learning of another language is involved. No ham-fisted TSA man will grope you. You won’t have to put any of your liquids or gels in a plastic Baggie. And ladies, what you do with your breast milk is your own business! Logging on to Authornation was less painful than my last visit to Margaritaville (no hangover and projectile vomiting… yet).
Seriously, let me know what you think. At the very least, go to Forums, scroll down to Genres>African American and answer my lonely question. The Token is looking for the Obligatory Second… and Third… and Fourth…
So, six years, one mainstream book deal, and two books later, I find myself once again observing Tom on the innovative edge of the industry, this time, helping writers reach out to each other. He has introduced a portal for writers called Authornation. I logged on and browsed through it, and I hope Tom forgives me when I say it’s like MySpace for writers. And, from my July 17th entry, you all know how addicted I am to the cybercrack that is MySpace. Sometimes, I’m like Chris Rock as Pookie in New Jack City, scratching myself and whining, “It be callin’ me! It be callin’ me!” But I digress…
I opened an Authornation account, browsed, posted some new writing to introduce myself, and read through the many forums on the site. There are even forums exploring specific genres. I posted a question there, under “African-American” almost a week ago, asking for suggestions on how African American writers could achieve mass appeal. Shockingly, the question has had no replies, prompting me to think that perhaps The Kid may be the fly in the literary buttermilk. Once again.
Hence the thrust to share this innovation with you. Check it out. Here’s the link to Authornation. There’s no pressure. To visit this nation is practically effortless. No shots, quinine pills, or learning of another language is involved. No ham-fisted TSA man will grope you. You won’t have to put any of your liquids or gels in a plastic Baggie. And ladies, what you do with your breast milk is your own business! Logging on to Authornation was less painful than my last visit to Margaritaville (no hangover and projectile vomiting… yet).
Seriously, let me know what you think. At the very least, go to Forums, scroll down to Genres>African American and answer my lonely question. The Token is looking for the Obligatory Second… and Third… and Fourth…
Friday, September 07, 2007
The Book Squad Begins a Two-Week Hiatus
... but we'll be back on September 21 with whole new guests and a brand spanking new website. In the meantime, we'll be re-running two of our most favorite shows. Listen at wmet1160.com, if you haven't been with us from the beginning.
Thanks for sticking with us for this fantastic ride that is The Book Squad. We appreciate it!
Thanks for sticking with us for this fantastic ride that is The Book Squad. We appreciate it!
Thursday, August 30, 2007
August 30, 2007: What's Next on The Book Squad
One hour. Six author interviews. Six women with smoking hot literary careers. The Femme Fantastik Tour kicks off with a stop at our studios. In addition to The Book Squad's own Wendy Coakley-Thompson, the Tour consists of the following authors who will be front and center:
Sammy E. Williams is in the Author Spotlight
Join us tomorrow at wmet1160.com. Isn't it the ultimate fantasy to have eight women entertain you all at once...?
Sunday, August 26, 2007
August 26, 2007: Ta-Dah! The Book Squad Promo Vid!
Hey, folks.
As you know, I've been doing this radio show called The Book Squad with Karyn Langhorne every Friday, from noon to 1:00 pm on WMET1160 and WMET1160.com since February 2, 2007.
During that time, we've kept our promise of tracking down the hottest authors and bringing them for questioning. And slowly but surely, we've been getting the word out, but we wanted to do something extra.
So, without further explanation, here's The Book Squad's promotional video. Please let me know what you think...
As you know, I've been doing this radio show called The Book Squad with Karyn Langhorne every Friday, from noon to 1:00 pm on WMET1160 and WMET1160.com since February 2, 2007.
During that time, we've kept our promise of tracking down the hottest authors and bringing them for questioning. And slowly but surely, we've been getting the word out, but we wanted to do something extra.
So, without further explanation, here's The Book Squad's promotional video. Please let me know what you think...
Thursday, August 23, 2007
August 23, 2007: What's Next on The Book Squad
On Friday's Book Squad, we're meeting authors who have the courage to examine their lives through memoirs.Mary Gordon, a successful fiction writer in her own right, talks to us about her latest nonfiction work, a memoir called Circling My Mother. In the book, Gordon explores her mother's extraordinary life, their relationship, and Gordon's own role as a daughter.
Next up is journalist Mike O'Connor. Through Crisis, Pursued by Disaster, Followed Closely by Catastrophe: A Memoir of Life on the Run -- what Kirkus Reviews calls his "riveting debut" -- O'Connor delves into his childhood of lies created by his parents and his quest to get to the hidden truth.
Yolanda Tucker is in the Author Spotlight.
So join us tomorrow at noon on wmet1160.com. We'll give you something to remember...
Friday, August 17, 2007
August 17, 2007: Are We There Yet?
I’m Anglican/Episcopalian. Trust me; it’s relevant to this blog entry.
Ever since I’d gotten confirmed at eleven years old, I could count on one hand the number of light bulb moments I’ve had in while sitting in Mass. Last week, people, I had one of those moments.
The sermon was entitled “Are We There Yet?” Now anyone who’s either been a kid or driven kids on long trips is ultimately familiar with that question… the excitement, the impatience, the urgency with which one awaits getting to the end of one’s journey wrapped up in those four little words. In this instance, the priest went on to extrapolate this question into our lives, how we spend an interminable amount of time waiting. I immediately thought about waiting for my mainstream book deal.
But back to Father David and his sermon... He said that the one constant that gets you through the wait is your faith that you will get to the end of the journey, get “there.” He said – get this – that some people have such strong faith that they don’t even ask the question anymore, that their belief on its own is enough to get them “there.” As a matter of fact, even asking the question – Are we there yet? – connotes a lack of faith in itself. My mind was officially blown.
Upon reflection, I extrapolated this question – Are we there yet? – to my writing career, which I have been actively pursuing for almost a decade now, sacrificing relationships with friends, family, lovers, and potential life partners. On this writing journey, I’ve been forced to change my concept of “there” quite a few times. “There” used to mean getting the book deal. Then it meant making my existence mean something by sharing stories that resonate with others, to commune with my fellow human beings, if you will. Kind of like the literary equivalent of buying the world a Coke and keeping it company. After years of being Clark Kent in the workplace and Superman in front of the computer at home, for me, “there” has evolved to mean doing what sustains me – which would necessitate me being a full time writer. By this present measure of “there,” I most definitely am not there yet.
And, unlike my fellow Anglican/Episcopalians with whom I shared a pew that Sunday, my faith has been shaken by recent developments. Rejections of a manuscript that I’d written with so much love have rained down on me in torrents. My agent and I have recently parted ways. I remain in limbo, cleaving to nothing special as I ride the train with the other nameless, faceless people with magnetized tags on lanyards around our necks, going off to till someone else’s field.
Unlike the faithful, I keep asking the question. I feel compelled to ask the question. Because I can never, will never accept that, in my presence circumstance, the answer to the question – Are we there yet? – is yes, you are.
Ever since I’d gotten confirmed at eleven years old, I could count on one hand the number of light bulb moments I’ve had in while sitting in Mass. Last week, people, I had one of those moments.
The sermon was entitled “Are We There Yet?” Now anyone who’s either been a kid or driven kids on long trips is ultimately familiar with that question… the excitement, the impatience, the urgency with which one awaits getting to the end of one’s journey wrapped up in those four little words. In this instance, the priest went on to extrapolate this question into our lives, how we spend an interminable amount of time waiting. I immediately thought about waiting for my mainstream book deal.
But back to Father David and his sermon... He said that the one constant that gets you through the wait is your faith that you will get to the end of the journey, get “there.” He said – get this – that some people have such strong faith that they don’t even ask the question anymore, that their belief on its own is enough to get them “there.” As a matter of fact, even asking the question – Are we there yet? – connotes a lack of faith in itself. My mind was officially blown.
Upon reflection, I extrapolated this question – Are we there yet? – to my writing career, which I have been actively pursuing for almost a decade now, sacrificing relationships with friends, family, lovers, and potential life partners. On this writing journey, I’ve been forced to change my concept of “there” quite a few times. “There” used to mean getting the book deal. Then it meant making my existence mean something by sharing stories that resonate with others, to commune with my fellow human beings, if you will. Kind of like the literary equivalent of buying the world a Coke and keeping it company. After years of being Clark Kent in the workplace and Superman in front of the computer at home, for me, “there” has evolved to mean doing what sustains me – which would necessitate me being a full time writer. By this present measure of “there,” I most definitely am not there yet.
And, unlike my fellow Anglican/Episcopalians with whom I shared a pew that Sunday, my faith has been shaken by recent developments. Rejections of a manuscript that I’d written with so much love have rained down on me in torrents. My agent and I have recently parted ways. I remain in limbo, cleaving to nothing special as I ride the train with the other nameless, faceless people with magnetized tags on lanyards around our necks, going off to till someone else’s field.
Unlike the faithful, I keep asking the question. I feel compelled to ask the question. Because I can never, will never accept that, in my presence circumstance, the answer to the question – Are we there yet? – is yes, you are.
August 17, 2007: What's Next on the Book Squad -- Manly Men Day!
It's Manly Men Day on The Book Squad, and we've got two authors whose pursuits and life experiences have ensured -- in spades -- that they, indeed, qualify to be present.Anthony Swofford is first up to introduce us to his next literary gem, Exit A. Unless your address is under a rock, you must know that Swofford is also the author of Jarhead, his memoir detailing his life as a Marine sniper during Desert Storm -- a book which later became a film starring Jake Gyllenhaal.
Speaking of authors who have a film connection, The Book Squad welcomes back Eric Van Lustbader. Again, unless you're living under that same rock mentioned above, you also know that Van Lustbader has taken over Robert Ludlum's Jason Bourne franchise. This time, he discusses his own non-Bourne-related work called The Testament, which is, according to The Barnes and Noble Review, "a pedal-to-the-metal thriller."
Kevin Johnson is the featured Author Spotlight.
Plus there's an extended Wendy's World!
I know -- way too much excitement for one Friday. But join us on wmet1160.com tomorrow and MAN UP!
Thursday, August 09, 2007
August 9, 2007: What's Next on The Book Squad
Karyn's down in Florida trying to be The Ultimate Author. Wendy's in D.C. with her ultimate family. So they've selected their two favorite interviews for rebroadcast.Karyn chose Walter Mosley, author of This Year You Write Your Novel, for his amazing writing chops.
Wendy chose Steve Santagati, author of The Manual: A True Bad Boy Explains How Men Think, Date, and Mate -- and What Women Can Do to Come Out on Top because he gave her helpful tips on the care and feeding of men... and because he made her laugh hysterically.
If you missed these authors before, listen tomorrow at noon on wmet1160.com.
Like pizza, they're better the second time around...
Thursday, August 02, 2007
August 2, 2003: What's Next on The Book Squad
We begin the dog days of August with an ecclectic mix of authors.Nathan Englander joins us, sharing aspects of his first novel, The Ministry of Special Cases, which was eight years in the making. Englander’s short fiction has appeared in The Atlantic Monthly, The New Yorker, and numerous anthologies including The Best American Short Stories, The O. Henry Prize Anthology, and the Pushcart Prize. Englander’s story collection, For the Relief of Unbearable Urges, became an international bestseller, and earned him a PEN/Faulkner Malamud Award and the Sue Kaufman Prize for First Fiction from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.
Washington D.C.-based novelist J. J. Michael is next to discuss her
latest, It's Not Over Yet, a fictional exploration of the paranormal. Michael, a lifelong student and teacher of Metaphysics and healing principles, is the founder of Pathtotruth.com and publisher of Path2truth.com, an ezine that promotes spiritual awareness, self-development and world peace. Michael has appeared on the local Virginia Cable Television and has been featured on National Public Radio (NPR). A renowned numerologist, Ms. Michael appeared in CNN's segment, "A Wrinkle in Time."Author Lauren Spicer joins us to dish about the last minute preparations for the taping of her reality show The Ultimate Author. The Book Squad's own Karyn Langhorne is part of the cast. Plus we'll also have your shot of Wendy's World.
Join us tomorrow on wmet1160.com, 'cause next week, we're having a compilation show, so you won't have us to kick around!
*CORRECTION: Last week, this blog incorrectly identified The Bracelet as romance author Karen Rose Smith's sixtieth book. It is actually her fifty-ninth. The fact that she has written so many that we could actually make that mistake remains impressive.
Friday, July 27, 2007
July 27, 2007: What's Next on The Book Squad: Revisiting Our Past
It's deja vu all over again on The Book Squad today. We're ending the month of Jult by checking in with past guests to see what they've been doing.First up is John Callahan, from our Writing While Dead show. He returns to further discuss the process of resurrecting Ralph Ellison's novel Juneteenth -- from a manuscript allegedly destroyed by fire in 1967, to having it grace the world's bookshelves decades later. He'll also share with us his latest, A Man You Could Love, in which he poses the question: Can politics be an expression of love? Let's as the latest iteration of the Sharks and The Jets here in D.C.
Remember Jason Miccolo Johnson, the author of Soul Sanctuary, his
photographic essay of the Black Church? He'd been a guest on our Spirituality show. A Washington DC resident, Miccolo Johnson has photographed the African Methodist Episcopal Church in an official capacity for a quarter of a century. He'll chat with us about what he's got percolating.
And you can't forget Karen Rose Smith from our Valentine's Day show. She has written fifty-nine romance novels. Her latest, The Bracelet, is #60. She'll be talking about the book and the miraculous feat of writing sixty romance novels.
Plus there's more Wendy's World.
So join us on wmet1160.com today at noon. Hey... haven't I seen you before?
Friday, July 20, 2007
July 20, 2007: What's Next on The Book Squad -- Potpourri!
Which is French for "Today's show has no central theme!" Jamie Malanowski is first up to fill us in on his latest, The Coup, his delicious new satire about a conspiracy to execute a power grab for the White House. Yes, it's fiction. He's the managing editor Playboy magazine. A member of the original staff of Spy, where he worked seven years, he has also been an editor at Time and Esquire, and has written for The New Yorker, The New York Times, Vanity Fair, The Washington Monthly, and many other publications.
Those still recovering from the fatty July 4th meal will appreciate the next guest. Medical 
journalist and heat attack survivor Robert E. Kowalski joins us to discuss his latest health book The Blood Pressure Cure: 8 Weeks to Lower Blood Pressure without Prescription Drugs. In addition to having written several bestselling books, he has published The Diet-Heart Newsletter for twenty years, maintains his Web site thehealthyheart.net, averages twelve media interviews monthly, and is launching an alliance with iamplify.com to be their provider of heart health information.
journalist and heat attack survivor Robert E. Kowalski joins us to discuss his latest health book The Blood Pressure Cure: 8 Weeks to Lower Blood Pressure without Prescription Drugs. In addition to having written several bestselling books, he has published The Diet-Heart Newsletter for twenty years, maintains his Web site thehealthyheart.net, averages twelve media interviews monthly, and is launching an alliance with iamplify.com to be their provider of heart health information.
Friend of The Book Squad (FOTBS) and Borders District Manager Juliana Wood tells us what Borders stores in the region are doing to
celebrate the arrival of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. 
Plus there's Wendy's World!
Come join us at wmet1160.com. As always, we're keeping your seat warm for you.
Tuesday, July 17, 2007
July 17, 2007: OMG! I’m Totally Hooked on MySpace!
The title of this missive might seem, as Hilary Duff might say, “So yesterday,” but I’m a chronic late adopter. Hang on to your hats, ladies and gentlemen – I STILL don’t have an iPod. Not even the starter cheaper Nano. This is why I’m so surprised that I have a monkey on my back. Its name? MySpace.
I became aware of the whole MySpace phenomenon in the summer of 2005 as a blip on my radar screen, when I’d read that acquisitive media Pac Man Rupert Murdoch had bought the company. Then I’d heard about the viruses and child safety issues. But that still didn’t stop the young ‘uns in my life from raving about this thing called MySpace. So I went up to www.myspace.com late on Friday, May 19, 2006, and at 12:15 am on Saturday, May 20, posted my first (and only, as it turns out) blog entry.
There it sat. For months and months. I think I had five friends at first, one being the ubiquitous Tom (Who is that guy, and why did he want to be my first friend?).
Suddenly, though, as time passed, I started getting all of these friend requests in my e-mail inbox. I was intrigued. I think the first author who’d sent me a friend request and a comment was Yasmin Shiraz. This opened the portal into my desire to become friends with my fellow authors and other sojourners through publishing.
Leaping from page to page, I discovered a wealth of people on MySpace that I’d always wanted to meet but had no idea of how to go about it. Like, for instance, my idols Jennifer Weiner and Rebecca Walker. Next, a host of authors on the Black Expressions list serve (blackexpressions2005@yahoogroups.com) sent out a blanket request for friends. I picked some up there. Along the way, I learned how to post and send comments, how to IM people, how to add new friends, and how to put music on my page. I still don’t have a cool layout or video, though. I may need the hand puppets to explain that. If any of you know how, please, by all means, hook a sistah up.
So, I’ve been on MySpace for a little over a year now. I’ve shot out friend requests and got a surprising number of them back. Oprah, the Dalai Lama, Nelson Mandela, Jimmy Carter, Barack Obama, and Margaret Cho are friends. So are Russell Simmons and John Legend. I won’t delude myself that they’re really “friends,” that they’re dying for my bulletins on who’s appearing next on The Book Squad. However, some of you, my Black Bloggers are friends with whom I’ve had actual interaction – like Gwyneth Bolton, a.Kai, and Monica Jackson. I go in the Pending Requests folder and see who’s agreed to be my friend. I’m still waiting on Mariah and LL, among others, to accept my invitation. Of course, you have the odd horny toad who wants to hook up, who didn’t read the Here For: Networking, Friends part of Wendy Coakley-Thompson’s Details. But I remain undeterred. The anticipation is like Christmas. No wonder Dave Itzkoff, in a June 2006 Playboy article, in discussing his experiences on MySpace, called it “cybercrack” (See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MySpace#Criticism).
To date, I have 183 friends, and I’m looking for more. If you’re on MySpace and would like to be my friend, here’s the link to my profile: www.myspace.com/wendycoakleythompson
I’ll be waiting…
I became aware of the whole MySpace phenomenon in the summer of 2005 as a blip on my radar screen, when I’d read that acquisitive media Pac Man Rupert Murdoch had bought the company. Then I’d heard about the viruses and child safety issues. But that still didn’t stop the young ‘uns in my life from raving about this thing called MySpace. So I went up to www.myspace.com late on Friday, May 19, 2006, and at 12:15 am on Saturday, May 20, posted my first (and only, as it turns out) blog entry.
There it sat. For months and months. I think I had five friends at first, one being the ubiquitous Tom (Who is that guy, and why did he want to be my first friend?).
Suddenly, though, as time passed, I started getting all of these friend requests in my e-mail inbox. I was intrigued. I think the first author who’d sent me a friend request and a comment was Yasmin Shiraz. This opened the portal into my desire to become friends with my fellow authors and other sojourners through publishing.
Leaping from page to page, I discovered a wealth of people on MySpace that I’d always wanted to meet but had no idea of how to go about it. Like, for instance, my idols Jennifer Weiner and Rebecca Walker. Next, a host of authors on the Black Expressions list serve (blackexpressions2005@yahoogroups.com) sent out a blanket request for friends. I picked some up there. Along the way, I learned how to post and send comments, how to IM people, how to add new friends, and how to put music on my page. I still don’t have a cool layout or video, though. I may need the hand puppets to explain that. If any of you know how, please, by all means, hook a sistah up.
So, I’ve been on MySpace for a little over a year now. I’ve shot out friend requests and got a surprising number of them back. Oprah, the Dalai Lama, Nelson Mandela, Jimmy Carter, Barack Obama, and Margaret Cho are friends. So are Russell Simmons and John Legend. I won’t delude myself that they’re really “friends,” that they’re dying for my bulletins on who’s appearing next on The Book Squad. However, some of you, my Black Bloggers are friends with whom I’ve had actual interaction – like Gwyneth Bolton, a.Kai, and Monica Jackson. I go in the Pending Requests folder and see who’s agreed to be my friend. I’m still waiting on Mariah and LL, among others, to accept my invitation. Of course, you have the odd horny toad who wants to hook up, who didn’t read the Here For: Networking, Friends part of Wendy Coakley-Thompson’s Details. But I remain undeterred. The anticipation is like Christmas. No wonder Dave Itzkoff, in a June 2006 Playboy article, in discussing his experiences on MySpace, called it “cybercrack” (See http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/MySpace#Criticism).
To date, I have 183 friends, and I’m looking for more. If you’re on MySpace and would like to be my friend, here’s the link to my profile: www.myspace.com/wendycoakleythompson
I’ll be waiting…
Friday, July 13, 2007
On Today's Book Squad
This week, The Book Squad features authors of debut novels.First up, Savannah J. Frierson joins us to discuss her first born Being Plumville, a story of interracial love and friendship down south. Frierson is a recent graduate of Harvard University who concentrated in African and African-American Studies and English. Frierson won the Dorothy Hicks Lee Prize for her creative thesis on African-American literature. She is originally from Blythewood, South Carolina, and now lives in Somerville, Massachusetts.
Local D.C.-area author Shauna Seliy is also in the house with us. Her novel When We Get There, which received a starred review from Booklist (that's a good thing, people) explores one boy's coming-of-age over the course of a long, eventful, brutally cold winter.
There's also Wendy's World, Around Town, and Karyn chats her experiences with reality TV on The Ultimate Author.
So join us on today at noon on http://www.wmet1160.com/. If it's your first time, we'll be gentle...
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